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Steve Tilston
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The Reckoning
Here's to all the grand children,
Yet to be born great grand children.
All your sons and daughters,
And your own grand children too.
I offer you my hand.
Out across the age's span.
A misbegotten plan
To leave the reckoning to you
I must apologise,
if it's written in the troubled skies.
We've been peddling lies,
Somehow forgotten what is true.
Though it's buried deep.
Poison never sleeps.
Through the ages seeps,
To leave a reckoning for you.
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We hang on to misguided dreams,
sleepwalk to the brink.
Hey ho, rue the day.
We're going down in drink.
I have planted seed.
In vain to raise an apple tree.
To entice the bees
to sip the blossom on the bough.
But the bees don't toil.
Around the tree a serpent coils,
Spits venom in the soil,
And leaves the reckoning to you
I raise to you a toast.
Should trouble come to roost.
For we ate the golden goose,
And left the reckoning to you.
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